Worlds Collide
by BroadwayBaggins
Summary: A Valentine's Day exchange present for thecorkrose: Sybil meets Tom's friends in Ireland for the first time.


"Sybil? Are you still with me, love?"

Tom's voice startled Sybil out of her thoughts, bringing her back to the darkened Dublin street they were crossing. She gave a sheepish smile, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming. Although she and Tom were to be married before the month was out—or at least, that was their hope—in many ways they were still getting to know each other as something more than just employer and employee. There were so many things Tom didn't yet know about her, and apparently her mind's tendency to wander was one of them.

"Sorry. I'm afraid I'm a little bit distracted."

"You're not nervous about meeting them, are you?"

Sometimes, it was incredible—and irritating—just how well Tom was able to read her.

Still, she shook her head. "Nervous? No, of course not." Tom gave her a look, and Sybil sighed. "I think apprehensive would be a better word. I'm terribly afraid that they won't like me."

"The Sybil I know has never been afraid of anything in her entire life."

"That's not true, and you know it." Still, the comment made Sybil smile.

"Sybil…" Tom's hand caught her wrist, turning her around to face him and smiling down at her softly. His hands came around her waist, and Sybil's heartbeat sped up at the contact. It was still so new, being able to touch each other in these small ways, ways that they could never have dared back at Downton. There, their every move was watched by those who would keep them apart, but here, in the bustling Dublin streetcorner, they were just two more faces in the crowd. "Look at me. Everything's going to be fine. I promise. Just be yourself, and they'll love you."

Sybil made a face. "That's the same advice you gave me with your brother, and I know he doesn't like me."

Tom sighed. "It's complicated. It's not you he dislikes, it's the system you come from, what you represent. Give him time. I wasn't so different from him, not too long ago."

Sybil smiled. "What changed your mind?" she asked teasingly.

"Well, I met the last person I ever expected to fall in love with, the daughter of an Earl…" Tom grinned and kissed Sybil's forehead, caressing her waist softly as he held her there. "Sybil, don't worry. They're going to love you as much as I do." Sybil bit her lip to keep herself from laughing as her fiancée seemed to realize exactly what he'd just said. "Or…maybe not."

"You're not going to start getting jealous now, are you, Branson?" she asked, her voice tinged with that same playful air that he had first heard when he drove her to Ripon all those years ago.

"That all depends on how they behave," Tom said sternly, but he soon smiled, kissing her softly on the lips. "Honestly though, love, don't worry. They're going to love you, I promise. If not…"

"If not what?"

"Then they'll have me to answer to."

"So have you met her yet?" Declan asked as he slid into a chair.

Henry McDermott looked up from his pint and rolled his eyes. "Or _hello,_ as some might say." Declan gave a snort. "And no, I haven't yet, but I've spoken to Tom. I'm sure she's lovely."

"Where is Tommy anyway?" Seamus Leary, Tom's best friend from childhood, asked so loudly that half the patrons of the pub turned to look at them. He ignored them. "It's not like him to be late."

"Maybe the famed lady of Downton changed her mind about joinin' us tonight."

"No, from what I hear about her, she's got real spirit. They're just running a little late. Though I wouldn't blame her if she was a little nervous to be meeting us, poor thing. I heard that she didn't exactly hit it off with Tom's brother too well."

"What about his mam?"

"Margaret Branson is a saint and you know it, so I'm sure she likes Sybil well enough."

"Lady Sybil," Declan corrected. "Can you believe it? Not only is our Tommy comin' back with a girl, but a well-born lady to boot! I wonder what she's like?"

"And if she realizes what she's getting into," Seamus said with a grin, which was immediately wiped off his face when the woman sitting next to him smacked him lightly upside the head.

"Play nice," she warned.

"Oy!" he said, rubbing his head, looking as if she'd mortally wounded him. "Come on, Aislin, it was a joke."

"Not much of one, apparently," Aislin countered. "If you're not nice to Sybil, you won't get a kiss out of me the entire night."

Seamus' hand flew to his heart, and he pretended to plead with his sweetheart. "You wouldn't be so cruel."

"I might be."

Declan and Henry exchanged glances and shrugged. "At least with Aislin here she can keep Sybil company," Declan said softly. "Aoife should be here soon. How's Cathy?"

"She wishes she could make it, but her morning sickness is still too bad. She'll be at the engagement party on Saturday, though, and the wedding for sure. I've been writing to Tom. I think having another Englishwoman in the neighborhood might make Sybil feel a bit more at home."

"Aye. Although you can't exactly say your Cathy has much in common with Lady Sybil, can you? I mean, she's an Earl's daughter. Cathy's…"

"The daughter of an English vicar, who ran off and became Catholic to marry a rascal like me," Henry said immediately. Declan chuckled. Henry was the most mature and well-behaved out of all of them, and they all knew it. To hear him call himself a rascal was ridiculous. "I know they didn't exactly have the same upbringing, and I'm not going to say it's going to be quite as easy for Sybil to settle in around here. But Cathy does know what it's like to be the odd one out. Maybe they can help each other."

Declan nudged him. "Or at the very least, they can get together and complain about their Irish husbands when they get sick of you."

"Aye. That they can."

The door opened just then, and the four turned quickly to see the newcomer, but it was only Aoife hurrying over to greet them. "I'm not late, am I?" she asked quickly, her green eyes darting around to look for their guests of honor.

"You're always late, but they're not here yet," Declan slid a pint over to his sister, who caught it deftly and took a sip. "Took the liberty of ordering for you. Is Rosie on her way?"

Aoife smirked. "Rosie said she never wants to lay eyes on the likes of you again, and if I want to know why then I should ask you."

Seamus snorted into his pint, and Declan whacked his arm and sighed. "Why is it that out of all of you, I'm once again the only one without a girl on his arm? For God's sakes, even Tommy found himself one."

"Who wants to bet that you'll find yourself another girl before the night is out?" Aoife chimed in, but the others barely heard her as the door to the pub opened again and they caught sight of a very familiar face.

Tom searched the crowd, his face lighting up as he spotted his friends. They, however, were more focused on the girl on his arm. She was dressed simply but well, in a dress and coat that instantly made Aoife and Aislin smile with polite envy. Her hair was dark and drawn back from her face, her lips full and looking quick to smile, and her blue eyes were bright with curiosity as they surveyed the pub. Henry was the first to approach the couple, offering his hand to Tom and pulling him in for a handshake and a hug. "Welcome back, Tom."

"How is it, McDermott, that you don't look a day older than when I saw you two years ago?"

"Just lucky, plain and simple. How was the crossing? Are you two settling in all right?"

"Mam seems to be under the impression that I was starved over in England, so she's feeding me everything under the sun, so I should say so. Sybil…" Tom said with a smile, returning his hand to its proper place around Sybil's waist. "I'd like to introduce my dear friend Henry McDermott."

"Pleased to meet you!" Sybil said eagerly, and Henry grinned. Although he hadn't had nearly as many trepidations as the others had had about meeting Sybil, there was a part of him that was worried her aristocratic habits would be hard to break. He realized that Tom's letters about her free spirit had been entirely true, and he returned her smile. "Tom's told me all about you. You're the one with the English wife, am I right?"

"You are indeed. My Catherine is from Manchester. She wished she could have made it tonight, but she's carrying our second and the pregnancy isn't really agreeing with her. You'll meet her soon, don't worry. She's counting the minutes, Lady Sybil, trust me."

"You needn't call me _Lady, _Mr. McDermott. Is she really from Manchester? Our cousins are from there."

"You'll have to excuse Henry," Declan said, sauntering to his feet to greet the lady. "He's a valet to one of our own aristocrats, so you'll find his old habits are hard to break. You should've seen Tom when he found out old Henry'd taken the job. I thought McDermott's black eye would never heal—"

"Declan. Don't," Tom said softly, his tone a warning.

Declan shrugged and the introductions continued. Sybil met Declan and the infamous Seamus, and the women surprised her by forgoing a handshake entirely and giving her a small but welcoming hug. Tom was proud of Sybil for taking everything in stride, and she settled down with the women to talk while he, Declan, and Henry went back to the bar for more drinks. They placed their orders and the bartender turned away to fetch them, giving the men ample time to glance back over their shoulders at the three women. "Sybil seems lovely," Henry began, putting a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Kind and sweet, but with a certain spark about her. I'm happy for you."

Seamus chortled, nudging Tom in the ribs. "Me too. Even if I still can't believe a fine English girl like her said yes to an Irish mongrel like you. Wonder if I might be able to steal her away from you."

"Don't be such an arse," Tom fired back, but he was grinning.

"Really! What, did you promise her a life of wild adventures if she ran away with you?"

"I just told her the truth," Tom said simply, his eyes never leaving Sybil as he watched her get acquainted with his friend's girls. "I said that everything came down to whether or not she loved me, and the rest was detail. I can't offer her a semblance of the life she left behind, and I can't promise that things won't be difficult from time to time. But I can offer her a life of love, and I plan to do just that."

The men were silent for a moment before Henry, retrieving his drink from the bartender. "I'll drink to that," he said softly, raising his glass to Tom. The others followed suit before gathering their drinks and returning to the table. Tom gently handed Sybil a half-pint of cider, figuring that she would find it more suited to her tastes than something darker.

The next half hour or so was spent getting to know one another, with Aislin and Aoife peppering Sybil with questions that she was more than willing to answer as the men joked amongst themselves in between the conversations. Declan attempted to flirt with Sybil a bit more under Tom's watchful eye, but he was more than happy to see that his fiancée was perfectly capable of handling him. She fired back each joke with one of her own, and was even persuaded to try a sip of Guinness from Tom's glass, which she found she liked more than she expected. Within minutes, it seemed she had won them all over—particularly when the band that had been setting up in the corner started to play.

Immediately the pub was filled with the sound of fiddle and drums, and Sybil's foot immediately began to tap along to the beat. Tom caught her eye and grinned, and Aislin, knowing the tune of the song well, began to sing.

"_As I was going to the Faire in Dingle,__  
__One fine morning last July,  
A fine-haired man came up behind me,  
Red-haired Mary, he did cry!"_

"_Will you come with me, my red-haired Mary?  
My donkey, he can carry two  
She looked at me, her eyes did twinkle  
Her cheeks, they were a rosy hue,"_ Seamus sang the next verse, grinning at his girl. He held out his hand, and they began to dance spiritedly, still singing. Sybil clapped her hands along with the rhythm, grinning at the display as a few other couples took to the dance floor along with them.

_"Thank you kindly, sir, I answered__  
__And then I tossed her bright red hair__  
__"Seeing as how you've got your donkey,__  
__I'll ride with you to the Dingle Faire."___

_"But when we reached the faire in Dingle,__  
__He took my hand to say goodbye.__  
__When a tinker man stepped up behind me,__  
__And hit him right in his left eye._

_Take your hands off Red-Haired Mary!  
She and I are to be wed  
We were with the priest this very morning,  
Tonight we'll lie in our marriage bed!"_

Before Sybil realized what was happening, Declan had seized her hand and led her onto the dance floor, ignoring her light protests. "We'll make an Irish lass out of you yet, my lady! Come on, one dance. Tommy won't mind."

She looked over her shoulder at Tom, but he seemed only amused by the sudden turn of events, not upset. Sybil was nervous about joining in the dance at first, but as she looked around she found that it wasn't entirely different from reeling at balls and parties when her family would go to visit the MacClares in Scotland. She took Declan's hands and allowed him to whirl her around the floor, their feet stomping to the rowdy beat of the song. Her laughter rang through the room, and Tom smiled, pleased that she seemed to be fitting in perfectly into her strange new world. He watched as she danced first with Declan, then with Seamus, then finally a slightly tamer jig with Henry. Finally, Tom reclaimed his fiancée and whirled her around the floor, holding her close in a way he never would have dared even back at the servants' balls at Downton. When the music swelled to a close, he dipped Sybil and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her as the crowd erupted into cheers.

"Lady Sybil is a marvel among women—a perfect English rose!" Declan shouted, causing everyone in the vicinity to laugh as Tom and Sybil straightened back up again.

"Pay no attention to him. He only waxes poetic when he's drunk," Tom advised Sybil, his arm easily slipping around her waist. She was out of breath and her cheeks were flushed, but Tom wasn't sure when he had ever seen her so happy.

"I've got to get me an English girl of me own!"

"My wife is English as well, and I don't recall you ever speaking of her like that," Henry said with a chuckle.

"That's because Cathy would hit me if I did, and we all know it. But Sybil, I'm sure, is a perfect angel. It's bloody unfair, that's what it is, that Tommy gets himself a fair English rose like that."

"Get your own English rose then, Seamus," Tom said, and Sybil knew that among Tom's friends, that nickname was sure to stick whether she liked it or not.

Declan grinned. "Let's see just how well an English rose can drink then, shall we?"

As it turned out, Sybil could hold her own amongst Tom's friends after all. And before they all parted ways for the night, another toast was made to the happy couple—and the friendships that Sybil was certain would last a lifetime.


End file.
